My Infinite System.

The Dragon King’s hall was drowned in silence.

Outside, the capital still roared with noise—panic at the gates, rumors swelling in taverns, refugees crying in the streets—but none of that dared step into this chamber. The throne room was a world apart, carved into the heart of the mountain itself, its walls alive with runes that glowed in slow pulses of molten gold.

The Dragon King sat on his throne of obsidian, vast enough to dwarf even his colossal frame. His crimson scales caught the silver firelight, each plate lined in black shadow like steel hammered in blood. His eyes were closed, yet every breath he drew shook the air.

The four dukes stood at their stations, none speaking. Phoenix curled her wings, the fire trailing them dim and restless. Tiger’s claws scraped the stone floor in irritation, his tail lashing behind him. Serpent’s coils shifted in uneasy loops, tongue flicking at every rumble of the throne. Tortoise remained immovable, eyes half-lidded, silent as a grave.

The Dragon King’s eyes opened.

Two suns burning molten, casting the hall in light that pressed into the skin like heat from a forge.

”I hear whispers,” he said. His voice rolled deep, carrying to every crevice of the chamber. ”Not of war. Not of kings fallen. Not of prey. But of dragons.”

None of the dukes spoke. His words crushed the air too heavily to answer.

”They spread my name without daring to speak it. They say I set fire to Taragon’s pride. That I burned Fenral’s wolves to ash. They look upon me with awe and with fear—and still they question.”

His claws curled over the armrest, stone groaning under the weight. ”Rumors are smoke. Smoke turns to fire. If fire spreads, it will not be mine. It will be theirs, and I will make them choke on it.”

Tiger bowed his head, his growl thick. ”Then give the order. Let us slaughter every tongue that dares speak the word.”

The Phoenix flared her wings slightly, but her tone was tempered. ”Cutting tongues makes martyrs. Fear cannot be silenced with steel. It must be replaced—with certainty.”

The Serpent hissed, scales shivering. ”And certainty comes when? When this phantom burns our gates?”

The Dragon King turned his gaze upon them, eyes searing. ”Certainty comes when I command it. None of you will question me again.”

The dukes lowered their heads at once. The weight of his presence suffocated every objection.

But then, footsteps echoed.

Not hurried, not timid. Measured. Calm.

A young man entered through the far doors, his cloak brushing the stone floor. He moved past the guards without hesitation, golden eyes sharp beneath his dark hair. The resemblance was faint but undeniable—his jawline, his shoulders, even the faint smirk that tugged at his lips when he lifted his gaze.

Kael. The Dragon King’s youngest son.

He knelt halfway across the chamber, one fist pressed to the stone, his cloak spilling around him like shadow.

”Father,” he said. His voice was clear, steady, but beneath it was a fire none in the chamber could ignore.

The King’s gaze narrowed. ”Kael.”

Kael lifted his head. The molten glow of his father’s eyes burned across his features, but he did not flinch. ”I came to speak of the dragon.”

The dukes stirred, Phoenix shifting her wings in irritation, Tiger’s tail thumping hard against the floor. But the King raised his claw, silencing them before they could speak.

”Careful, boy,” the King rumbled. ”You know what name you dare carry into my hall.”

Kael’s jaw tightened. ”The name already roars in every tavern, every market. It slips from every mouth in the city. Even your commands cannot smother it fast enough.”

The King’s eyes burned hotter. ”And what of it? Do you think to tell me of fear as though I cannot smell it in my own walls?”

”No.” Kael’s voice sharpened, though his body stayed low. ”I came to ask for the right to hunt it.”

The hall went still.

Even the torches seemed to pause their silver flames.

The King leaned forward, claws carving grooves into the obsidian armrest. ”You presume much.”

Kael’s eyes burned brighter. ”I ask for no throne. No army. Only your blessing to seek truth. If this dragon exists, I will find him. If he does not, then I will tear the lies from the roots myself.”

The Tiger’s growl rumbled low. ”Foolish cub. You are no duke, no general. You are a shadow beneath your father’s wings. What gives you the right?”

Kael’s gaze flicked to him, gold sharp as a blade. ”The right of blood. The right of a son who will not watch his father’s name rot in whispers.”

The Serpent hissed, coils tightening. ”Bold words. But boldness does not kill shadows.”

The Phoenix’s feathers lifted slightly, embers trailing faint. Her eyes lingered on Kael, unreadable, but she said nothing.

The Dragon King rose.

The hall trembled with each step as he descended the dais, his massive form looming over his kneeling son. Smoke curled from his nostrils, the heat rolling in waves.

”You are not Karl,” he said, his voice low, almost quiet, but heavier than a roar.

Kael’s shoulders stiffened at the name.

The King’s eyes narrowed. ”You are not the traitor who spat on my blood and fled this city. You are Kael, my youngest. My last flame. Do you seek to follow his path?”

”No.” Kael lifted his head, golden eyes burning hotter now, almost defiant. ”I am not Karl. I will never be Karl. I will not betray you. I will not abandon this throne. But neither will I sit idle while your crown is mocked with whispers.”

The King stared down at him for a long silence, fire smoldering in his gaze. The weight of it pressed heavy on Kael’s chest, but he did not bow his head again.

At last, the King’s lips curved—not in warmth, but in approval edged with danger.

”Then rise.”

Kael stood, the air still trembling faintly from the weight of his father’s aura.

”You want to hunt?” The King’s voice rolled through the chamber like thunder. ”Then hunt. Seek this dragon. Drag his corpse to my feet, or scatter his lies into ash. But know this, Kael—” He leaned closer, molten eyes searing. ”If you fail, you will not crawl back to me. Failure is exile. Or death.”

Kael did not falter. ”Then I will not fail.”

The King’s wings flared, shadows cutting across the hall. He turned, his voice carrying finality. ”The dukes will not aid you. This is yours alone. Go. Prove you are not Karl’s shadow, but my son.”

Kael bowed once more, sharp and clean, before turning on his heel. His cloak swept behind him, his steps steady as he walked from the chamber.

The dukes watched in silence. Tiger sneered faintly, Serpent hissed in disapproval, Phoenix’s gaze followed long, and Tortoise blinked slow, unreadable.

The Dragon King returned to his throne, the fire in his eyes dimming to steady embers.

The hall closed behind Kael with a thunderous echo.

And in the corridor, Kael paused, exhaling slow. His fists clenched at his sides, but his eyes were steady, golden light burning sharp.

He was no longer just the youngest son.

He had been given the hunt.

And whatever shadow wore scales across the world, he would find it.